Twins have cottoned on to a sure-fire way of turning me from 'evil mummy' into 'nice mummy', simply by crying and saying "Need Daddy" or "Daddy cuddle". At which point I am liable to go all moist-eyed and say "Ah, are you missing Daddy?" and capitulate on whatever unreasonable demand they were having a tantrum about at the time. The result of this is that the eating chocolate vs changing nappies balance has begun to swing the wrong way. By the time Hubby gets back from Afghanistan they will have teeth like Mrs Miggins (from Mrs Miggins' pie shop) and bottoms like baboons.
Hubby will get the shock of his life when he gets home and is leapt upon my two foul-breathed ape-like creatures who insist that only he is the one they will accept to change their nappies.
I'm quite looking forward to it...